James Marlon - John Crow's Devil

“Jesus,” Clarence said again, and watched the Apostle shake. Clarence grabbed the lamp from the table beside the bed and removed the shade. He swung high and clobbered the Apostle in the face. He struck him again and again, smashing his eye back into his skull, bursting his bottom lip, breaking his nose, and cracking the back of his head. The Apostle put up little resistance. Clarence bludgeoned him until his hand fell tired, until the Apostle’s blood consumed him, until York’s skull crushed soft, like a pumpkin. Then he bludgeoned him until the lamp broke. Blood was splattered all over Clarence’s skin. It was a new baptism.

“Jesus,” he said.

The Apostle had not been seen in two days. The rest of The Five believed Clarence when he said that York wanted to rest and not be disturbed, but were surprised when he did not show up for the School of Boy Prophets, given his special interest in children. The village was surprised as well. Clarence knew what was coming. He bolted the door and laid the Apostle in the bathtub filled with water. The water was bloody, soaking the Apostle’s body with crimson. His beautiful face was gone. Clarence wanted to die, but he wanted to live as well. The Five would most certainly kill him once they found out. But he was already dying.

Perhaps he and the Apostle could stay in the room forever. York had known him for who he truly was, and there was nothing to go back to now but lies. He heard a murmur in the wind. As Clarence looked out the window, he saw the crowd, the people of Gibbeah, gathered outside the house. He went to the bathroom. Any minute now The Five would kick down the door and kill him for what he had done. Clarence climbed into the tub, laid on top of the Apostle, the only living thing he ever loved, and embraced him. The Apostle sank underneath crimson water and Clarence sank underneath too.

The people wanted answers. It was not like the Apostle to leave his flock unattended for two days. Tony Curtis stood at the gate while Brother Patrick went toward the door. Just then a woman screamed. The crowd panicked and several fled. On the gate landed a dove, right beside Tony Curtis, who also ran, yelping in terror.

But not everyone left. There were a few who remembered that a dove was a bird of promise, not judgment. The dove flew and they followed his flight, running along Brillo Road until they came to the fence, which was covered in greenery. The river roared as the bird flew over to the other side. Through the spaces between leaves they saw the other side as well. They saw judgment and redemption, rescue and damnation, despair and hope.

She was dressed in a long, light blue dress and men’s work boots laced up to her calves. She wore a wide straw hat that blocked the glare of the sun, but not the view of her face. As the wind whipped itself up and her dress blew like waves, the Widow raised her right hand and pointed two fingers.